prompts dump
by Palindromes Rock
Summary: Hehe, this is a prompt idea I had for Sherlock and Detective Conan/Magic Kaito... and other story ideas I had in other animes/shows, which I just don't have time to elaborate on right now. Expand on them if you want. Thanks.
1. assorted prompts

Okay, Apologizing, yes…

Thank you everyone who has been following my various stories, etc. I'm sorry I haven't posted anything in so long, I've found myself thrown into the adult world and it is exhausting! I feel so much more appreciative of my mother.

Anyway. Besides exhaustion, part of the problem has been getting side-tracked with prompt ideas that I just don't want to pursue at this time, which hasn't been helped by my friend introducing me to Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood and his… _friendly_ _encouragement_ … to watch One Punch Man and Attack on Titan.

It has been very distracting.

Ergo: I have decided to post prompt ideas I can't currently pursue (or don't feel equal to the task of writing) here.

I don't expect many people to really read or use these as I'm adding them as much as I have considered them, which is shoddy in some cases (like… a single incomplete sentence) and infuriatingly tantalizing in others.

Anywho, these are the prompt ideas… knock yourself out.

 **Few/Partial Sentence, Paragraph Long, or Concept Prompts**

 _Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood_

1.

"You charge an arm and a leg for your wares" Ed complained.

"Seeing as you're buying an arm and a leg, did you expect anything different!" Winry retorted.

 _Miraculous Ladybug_

1.

Basically a head canon that the real reason Chat Noir, who has some combat training, keeps getting his butt kicked (and needs to be saved by a baker-seamstress) is because he's secretly terrified of what he could do. His power is to destroy, he's bad luck, what happens if he makes a mistake? How bad could it turn out?

That's also why he still holds back even when turned to the villain's side; doing harm is so contrary to his personality.

He's constantly holding back, but isn't skilled enough to do so without crippling his own fighting style.

Basically a bid for a story that increases Chat's and by extension, Adrien's, skill level.

2.

This one is… during an akuma attack, Chat Noir gets transported to an alternate universe of some sort. (Personally, I'd find it hilarious if he ran into DC's Cat Woman and gets some training from her. If you can't tell, I like Chat best. Plus, the idea of pretty-boy Agreste getting stuck in Gotham of all places.) Like…

 _I don't exist here._

The thought made Chat Noir grimace.

He'd become Chat Noir for the freedom it provided. In this world, however, Adrien Ageste didn't exist. If he wanted to, he could walk around in his civilian identity without being mobbed by fans or even drawing attention beyond his naturally handsome appearance. No one knew him.

The idea didn't comfort him.

It was _too_ attractive.

At least to Adrien.

But as Chat, he had responsibilities he'd willingly taken up; to Paris, to the Akumatized victims, and to Ladybug.

Adrien might be tempted to stay where he could be himself for a change.

Chat, however, definitely had to return.

His partner would worry, she needed him, and he needed her. His Lady.

"Claws in…" he muttered, his cat suit, mask, and ears vanishing. Frowning he pulled off the backpack he'd been wearing before he transformed….

3.

Chat Noir has an account on some social media site that is entirely dedicated to videos of cats and pictures of cat toys. Not even Ladybug appears on it. When she finds out… she is exasperated… but also finds it hilarious. In return, she makes her own account that is entirely pictures of flowers and ladybugs.

They end up 'adding' each other, or whatever the proper term is, and sometimes add comments or captions to try and make the other smile or laugh. (Ie: Chat complaining about dogs and joking about having a catnip stash, and Ladybug complaining about bad weather and joking about which flowers taste the best.)

 _Welcome to Night Vale_

1.

Hmm… I always liked Eldritch Abomination Cecil, but it's also always impressive if one manages to write him without description beyond what canon says.

Anyway, basically… there have been two main times when Cecil almost lost Carlos: The Bowling Alley incident and the Desert Other-World…. I thought it could be amusing if he took offense to a near third attempt and scared the crap out of whatever was threatening Carlos. I mean, he helped the police hold off a literal five-headed dragon before, so he's certainly not ordinary by our standards.

I actually really like the theory that he's actually super powerful, but holds back to observe due to his job/morals of some stripe.

2.

I think it would be cool if Carlos has an odd sort of awareness for extra dimensional things. He just finds himself drawn and interested to/in things that happen to be more than they seem, but he isn't entirely aware of this gift.

It would explain how he found Night Vale in the first place, why he decided to run tests on a house that's just right there when you look at it, but which isn't real… or his interest and lack of panicking at being trapped in the desert other-world… or even why he first became interested in Cecil… etc.


	2. sherlock-detective conan prompt

Returning home to find potential clients lined up by the door was not uncommon, returning to find Sherlock lying serenely on the couch was far less uncommon. Returning home _in Sherlock's company_ to find someone inside their _locked_ flat was unheard of.

Even stranger was the crease in Sherlock's brow saying he hadn't been able to deduce the intruder's presence before they'd both heard his voice through the door.

So it was a wary and incredulous John Watson who watched a teen with a neat hairdo and professional attire recite Shakespeare while lifting Sherlock's decorative skull in perfectly even and unwavering dramatics.

"His name is not Yorick." Sherlock informed their intruder calmly, flopping onto his customary couch like an overgrown cat.

The man returned the skull to the fire mantle and, as comfortably as if he belonged there, also dropped to lounge on a chair. He looked entirely too relaxed on the rickety wooden furniture.

"I'd hate to rob you of your armchair", he explained, eyes flicking between the doctor and his usual seat.

Well used to people indicating knowledge over things they had no reason to know, John settled himself before asking, "who are you?"

"He's not honestly going to answer that." Sherlock said.

The man grinned, "call me Kaitou if you please, or Kudo Shinichi. Whichever. I knew that was your seat because of the pillow."

John blinked at the not-answer to the question he hadn't asked. "What?"

Kaitou waved at said pillow, an old sentimental keepsake bearing a screen-print of the National Flag. "I doubt Mr. Detective over there would show such obvious patriotism, especially considering his brother; far more likely for the former soldier."

Sherlock smirked and John frowned. "Is it so obvious to everybody?"

Kaitou blatantly looked the flustered doctor up and down. "All military men have a way of walking, it's confident, but not bold… like there's someplace you're determined to get to." He explained, "I can read it in your body language. You're a little more self-conscious than most soldiers I've met though… maybe because you live with such an observant detective or maybe because you're a doctor. No one who isn't a doctor would tie their shoes in such an unconventional way."

"He was distracted this morning. Otherwise he does tie them using bows rather than surgical knots." Sherlock supplied.

Kaitou nodded thoughtfully and turned his gaze to the dark-haired man. He smirked, liking what he saw. Folding his arms, Kaitou made a satisfied sound. "I do think you'll be perfect." He purred.

"A case?" John asked, feeling as though he was missing something.

Sherlock closed his eyes, "depends on if it's interesting enough for me to accept a case from a thief."

"Thief?" John yelped, eyeing their possible client with new interest. That did explain how he got in when the door was still locked.

"Kaitou is Japanese for 'phantom thief', he was never really trying to hide it. Skilled in trespassing if the lack of evidence is acknowledged. The way he learned about you from your habits and appearance shows he is practiced when it comes to picking up details about a person for impersonation purposes – character over history – and he's obviously in disguise."

"Obviously?" Kaitou snorted, "were it obvious I'd have been caught a long time ago."

Sherlock sighed, "you're nearly perfect, but I noticed a slight change in your pronunciation between your recitation and speaking. It could be passed off as acting, but even then nobody would normally speak with an accent if he could speak like a native. Your English is perfect, but the person whose form you've taken isn't as good."

Kaitou preened, "He doesn't have to be as good. Neither his career nor his freedom hinge on being able to perform perfect imitations of anyone, regardless of language."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, "language barrier, hmm… so _international_ thief, a clever one too. Interesting. You're very relaxed for a thief in the company of a detective, so it's something you're used to."

Kaitou huffed, "I'm not today's mystery and I'm actually very tense, but fortunately a good poker face is all encompassing."

John waved his hands, simultaneously trying to ward off a headache. "Hold up. Let me get this straight. He's a thief." John gestured to Kaitou.

"I prefer gentleman burglar or _phantom_ thief." Kaitou supplied.

John waved that away. "A good thief then, and you're here because for some reason you need a detective. Why would a thief willingly seek out a detective? You'd have to be worried about arrest, why risk it?"

Amusement spread across Kaitou's face, "he has a way of reminding one of what's important, doesn't he?"

Sherlock smirked, "he does. He also has a point. Why would an international jewel thief of your caliber seek me out?"

"Jewel thief?" Kaitou said raising a brow "does this mean you've realized who I am? Or is there some clue on my person that I somehow missed?"

"An international thief with skills in disguise was enough to narrow the playing field." Sherlock said, folding his hands under his chin. "Add in Japanese origin and dramatic flare and there's only one person you could be. Kaitou 1412, or KID colloquially."

Kaitou beamed, "I see my reputation precedes me."

"Enough!" John exclaimed, "if you're done testing each other and deflecting…."

"Of course." Kaitou said, suddenly serious, voice lowering in a way that instantly had John and Sherlock at attention. "I'm here because I need your help."

"Wouldn't any detective do, or is Japan lacking?" Sherlock dismissed, putting up a bored façade.

Kaitou flinched slightly. "Actually… the number of teenage detectives we have is baffling. Even more baffling is that they seem better at it than any grownup police detective or private investigator I've seen. However, the best of the best is a young man named Shinichi Kudo."

"The person you're dressed as." Sherlock muttered, running fresh eyes over their guest; as though trying to see the real Shinichi through the imposter.

"Yes." Kaitou continued. "He has unprecedented efficiency when it comes to solving cases, and is just as quick at thinking on his feet if it comes down to violence." Kaitou smiled proudly, "of all those who have chased me, he's come the closest to catching me on several occasions."

"You sound… pleased… about that." John commented.

"It makes things anywhere from interesting to intimidating", Kaitou agreed, "but I expect no less from my favorite critic. I'd be disappointed if he didn't challenge me."

"What happened to him?" Sherlock asked, "obviously you're leading up to something about Kudo, so what happened to him?"

"He's missing." Kaitou admitted gravely. "I need you to find him."


	3. harry potter prompts

_Harry Potter_

1.

This one is fun… I've really enjoyed stories where Harry is summoned to an alternate dimension in order to kill their Voldemort, either because their boy-who-lived died or would be unequal to the task of taking down Voldemort.

'On a Pale Horse' and '0800-Rent-A-Hero' are probably my absolute favorite, while 'Whiskey Time Travel' is probably my favorite time travel… anyway….

I think it would be hilarious if an OP Harry Potter were summoned to an AU, maybe one where he died as a baby and his parents survived…. The twist would be that Harry is a muggle, maybe an agent for the crown or something, but the result is he's a veritable British Batman, but without that pesky 'no-kill' rule (more like Red Hood then).

Unfortunately, despite their supposed 'lack of bigotry against muggles' the Order of the Phoenix is highly disappointed with their summoned 'hero' because he is completely devoid of magic. (James and Lily's response to this would probably be hilarious, not to mention Sirius or Remus. In fact muggle Harry could break Sirius out of Askaban. Who would suspect a muggle of being capable of something all wizards have failed.)

Harry in return is not all that impressed with being kidnapped by rude and superior wizards and witches to fight a battle that isn't his. He is also unimpressed with their writing him off as useless, maybe only Snape is the one who sees that he isn't as harmless as everyone thinks a muggle would be.

Anyway, this Harry could still have been raised by the abusive Dursleys, maybe his parent died in a car crash, maybe he's not really all that upstanding a citizen, but he has his own moral code he follows. Maybe he's more Slytherin and uses everyone underestimating the 'muggle' to his advantage, maybe he proves them wrong. Maybe only the Death Munchers and Moldyshorts realize he's actually a threat, but don't know who he is or what he looks like because he snipes them off from afar or no one who encounters him survives to spread tales.

Even a meeting with the aurors could be awesome. Like Harry totally does their job for them, but their so conceited they don't even realize that the summoning that brought him there knew what it was doing. Maybe only the Head of the Aurors would even realize he's legit, and she decided to impede her own investigation of the 'wizard responsible for blowing up death eaters' houses with an untraceable ridiculously powerful exploding hex', which was really dynamite.

This isn't even mentioning the political possibilities of a muggle taking down the darkest wizard of the century more efficiently than any pure-blood, half-blood, or muggle-born witch or wizard could. I imagine the ramifications of that reveal would either be a resurgence of hate and fear towards muggles or a realization that muggles are in no way actually less powerful or dangerous than magical-folk, they are in fact as diverse with genius as the magical world.

2.

There should also be more fics about Harry actually being the bad-boy his Aunt and Uncle claim him to be. I saw one so far called 'Trouble', but it ended up not really changing the plot at all because underneath all his crimes and stuff he was still a good kid.

I had been thinking about one where he is more of a punk, but… honestly I believe myself far to sheltered to actually write it well or accurately.

3.

Okay, I really love dangerous, but kinda dorky Salazar Slytherin. Like, he's all philosophical one minute, sulking in a corner the next, basking in the sun as a snake, but always ready to show off who the darkest wizard you'll ever cross truly is (and he'll dye your hair pink just so you feel extra humiliated).

But can you imagine him always being 5 seconds away from geeking out about potions, and always trying to find an occasion to demonstrate his mastery. Like, smoke-bomb potion bottles, insta-explosion potion, etc. But… sometimes he doses people with them without their consent – never anything too dangerous – but sometimes he doesn't think about all the possible outcomes or sometimes he's experimenting with a new potion and it reacts unexpectedly.

So, amneserum (amnesia and serum together)….

Salazar didn't bother wasting the breath required for cursing; instead casting a quick bubblehead charm as his latest experiment bubbled over and practically vaporized into a strange shimmering smoke.

Unfortunately, the sheer amount of smoke was too much for the potion lab's ventilation shafts and the room filled with the shimmering vapor.

Stumbling, mostly blinded, Salazar groped for his door and gratefully exited into the clear air of the hallway.

Behind him the shimmering smoke spilled after, curling like gripping fingers in the wake of his passing. The flickering torchlight caught eerily in the smoke and phantom like images played in the cloud.

Fascinated, Salazar summarily summoned a parchment and quill to write down his observations.

The fumes continued to disperse as he jotted notes about the color, density, and other properties: _is not flammable, does not cause changes to physical objects of biological or inert origins, fades slower than typical smoke would…._ And so on.

Eventually the last wisps vanished and Salazar reentered the lab to set his new page of notes with all the others. The cauldron – the source of the smoke – was entirely empty, not a drop of potion to be seen. Frowning, Salazar cast a quick cleansing charm on the cauldron to no affect. Literally nothing was left.

Sighing, Salazar stretched; dispelling his bubblehead charm as he realized that not only was he starving, but that he was also very likely late for dinner.

"Merlin's balls!" He huffed, deeming facing Helga's wrath for being late _again_ worth the expletive's vocalization.

Smoothing his robes and running fingers through his hair to loosen the ribbon holding it out of his face, the dark wizard declared his appearance 'good enough' and hurried towards the Great Hall.

It was bedlam.

A cacophony of young voices all depicting various stages of panic as the students of Hogwarts asked: "What's going on?" "Where am I?" "Who am I?" "Why the hell can't I remember anything?"

It was enough that Salazar was tempted to just leave it to the other three founders… until he saw them standing just as confused amid the crowd of children.

Rolling his shoulders and bracing himself, Salazar's face smoothed out into a calm mask and he strode through the chaos towards the head table. Everyone split to let him pass, falling silent at his deliberate and smooth action.

On the raised bias at the front of the room, Salazar turned to face the assembled personnel of Hogwarts. "Be calm and be quiet" he ordered, "I'm going to sort this out and then explain what has occurred."

He turned to eye his fellow professors speculatively, "what happened Ravenclaw?" He asked, meeting her eyes so that there would be no mistaking his object of inquiry.

"Ravenclaw?" Helga whispered, "that's not me is it?"

"I don't know", Godric whispered back, "I don't think I'm-"

"I'm afraid I can't answer" Rowena pronounced clearly, "I can't seem to recall anything. I assume Ravenclaw is my name. It would stand to reason then that you know me. Did you not lose your memory?"

…

Basically this would continue with Salazar trying to organize a huge group of people who can't remember and thus can't respond to their own names. You can see how this would be difficult, yes?

By the end, Salazar would be so done with everyone.


	4. one-liners

Basically, short concepts that could be funny if used in a fic. No specifics in mind. If I find good ones from other shows or website or whatnot… I'll add them as well.

"I am a master of omission." "Many would still consider that lying."

"Why the hell are you vegetarian?" "I don't know, just… one summer I decided to add some depth to my personality." (I actually heard someone say this. It was pretty funny at the time.)

Threat level update: we're screwed

"Fast, powerful, and cheep. Pick two."

"If you learn how to think, then you don't have to be smart to not be dumb."

"What's your name?" "I don't have one." "Why not?" "Because I chose to forget it."

"His dad brought home prostitutes, his mother was one… infidelity just ran in the family." "So… you could say it was in his genes/jeans?"

"Moths are just misunderstood night-time butterflies."

"You trippin'?" "Yup, went down a flight of stairs… I think I got a concussion."

"Are you a freaking ninja or something?!" "Yes." "… You're lying."

"We'll never see eye-to-eye." "I'll never see period. I'm blind."

"If you're gonna kill me, at least do it on purpose. Seriously… I've almost died several times just by being in your general proximity, you're so sloppy."

"You worry too much" "You worry too little!"

(Oh goodness! This line from Jessica Jones. Gold.) "You're coming across as paranoid." "Everyone keeps saying that, it must be a conspiracy."

"Actually, I became a criminal on accident and decided to just roll with it."

"Even if I were a dung beetle… I wouldn't approach you, you piece of shit" (My sister and I were trying to come up with cheesy pick-up lines. We suck. We're far better at insults)

"Why would I want to escape? I'm right where I want to be."

"You cheated!" "So did you; I just cheated better." "Fair enough."

Handbooks for Every Morally Ambiguous Occupation: Intimidation for the Unintimidating, Dramatic Thieving for a Phantom Thief, Thug Life 101, Vigilante Guide to Skating the Law…. Etc.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me I died!"

"You act as though, for some reason, I should care."

"You go play hero, because honestly, I don't give a shit." "People are _dying_!" "People are always dying."

"You really want me to do something about it, don't you…." "Yes." "Fine… **sigh** … but note that I'm only doing so with the utmost reluctance."

"I'm insane, what's your excuse?"

"What's wrong with you?" "Lots of things."

Gentleman criminal: knock on the door of your kidnap-victim, apologize for running into someone directly before stabbing them, help little grandma cross the street before kidnapping her neighbor and torturing them for information

"That one time, which I know nothing about…" "I don't know anything about that either." (Sarcastic)

"Are you happy?" "… I am not… _unhappy_ …."

"It's so nice to finally meet your husband!" Confused pointing, "eh? Were not married."

"Nothing is worse than realizing your own misery."

"How did you get in here! There were guards outside." "Emphasis on _were_."

"Bigotry has nothing to do with! Humans are humans, and I can honestly say… I'd be equally condescending if you were white."

"You _broke_ into my house!?" "Yes, keep up… and eat your breakfast! I worked hard on that."

"Ugh! You ruined my makeup!" "You don't wear any." "So? It's the principal of the thing."

"Welcome to 'Hiding a Body 101'."

"We're talking about a guy who glues pistachios on his lip so he can say he has a 'pistachio-mustachio'!"

"I've got a taste for destruction. It's addicting." "No… you just think it's easier to ruin things on purpose than on accident." "Ruining everything is inevitable for me, why not embrace it?" "You're a coward…"

"A mental institution can't help when you're not crazy."

"I'm great at making friends… I just have a hell of a time keeping them."

"What?" "You were seriously flirting with her?!" "She was cute." "And that guy last time?" "He was also cute."

"You… a demon… made me a blanket?" "I was told to take up a hobby less inclined to traumatize you humans." "… And those three over there who are clearly traumatized?" "They asked what I was knitting." "…" "I crochet, not knit."

"There's no need to neglect common sense and safety while performing dangerous death-defying acts. Honestly, what do take me for."

"I don't really do… dying…." "What the hell do you mean?" "Hell indeed *cough* Immortality was on sale 3 for 1 that day."

"This is the last I want to hear of this." "Hey you know that thing… the one that you said you didn't want to hear about again… ah, yeah…."

"If you haven't punched him in the face once, you haven't gotten the full experience."

"If they weren't so hell bent on being neutral… they'd be overpowered as shit."

"Ah, shit…. I got blood in my eye." *rub*

"You're asking me what the difference is between a Wizard, a Warlock, a Mage, and a Sorcerer? Hell if I know, but it's probably something like the difference between a Dork, a Nerd, a Geek, and a Dweeb… semantics."

"I want you to be happy, so… honestly… I'd rather share you than lose you."

"If I stopped to cry over every friend I've watch die… I'd never get anything done."

"Are you saying I can't look intimidating while eating goldfish?"

"You've seriously never had _The Talk_?" "No. Everything I know on the subject I learned from reading fanfiction. Amusing, but it doesn't envelop me with the burning urge to partake in such an… unsanitary… endeavor."

"Live long enough and it starts to feel an awful lot like being dead."

"You're a very difficult _ to reach… by traditional means. Luckily… I'm a nonconformist and quite good at untraditional means."

"Hey, you gotta knife?" "Do you need it right now?" "… yeah." "Shit." Pulls knife out of body with a 'shick' and a dribble of blood. "If I die of blood loss now I'm gonna haunt you for the rest of your life."


	5. feedadrienagreste

#FeedAdrienAgreste

Chat Noir blinked at the girl he found himself nose to nose with. He opened his mouth to talk and the smell of pastries drifted over his tongue.

Marinette always smelled like cookies.

The hero's stomach rumbled and he flushed, jumping away like someone had just tugged on his tail. "Ah… you smell like cookies. I mean! Not that I was smelling you, it's just something I noticed. Cat senses and all." He coughed nervously, face still red, and sheepishly met Marinette's eyes.

She was smirking at him, clearly amused. "Is the little kitten hungry?" She teased.

He blushed deeper, to shades of red he hadn't even known he could achieve.

It wasn't like he wasn't well fed at home, but on late nights like this one… midnight snacks were a must and not always easily accessible.

Marinette seemed to take the silence as an answer; she boldly grabbed his hand and led him a few blocks to her family's bakery.

Chat followed dumbly, still rather embarrassed. He couldn't hide the grumbling of his stomach when she opened the door and a wave of delicious scents washed over him.

"Ma! Pa!" Marinette called, impressively loud for such a small girl, "I brought home a stray!"

"What is it this time? A feral dog-" her father broke off as he moved into a position where he could see Chat Noir's startled green eyes. "Ah… not a traditional stray then."

"He's willing to work for his share." Marinette joked and held open the door.

Chat stared at them for a second before glancing at the threshold. Then his shoulders relaxed and he stepped in, "Chat Noir reporting for duty" he said with a cheeky salute.

Marinette closed the door and Tom beamed, "we could use a few extra hands tonight" he boomed, clapping a hand on the blonde's shoulder.

Chat swayed with the weight, but privately thought that the comment on extra hands must have been an exaggeration as Marinette deftly joined her mother in the kitchen (Sabine cast him a gentle smile). The three moved with the precision of a dance troupe.

"Tonight we're making Almond Cookies" Tom said, looping an apron over Chat's head and tying it in a bow on the back. "The dough is already done, it was set to chill during the day. What we need to do now is break it into pieces, flatten them to quarter-sized coins, press an almond slice on top, lacquer with whisked egg, and bake."

Chat almost gaped again; maybe needing extra hands wasn't as exaggerated as he had thought.

They all washed their hands. Chat had glanced at his clawed gloves for a second before realizing he didn't know if they could be removed or not. He opted to just wash his gloved hands and make due with that.

Marinette and Sabine took their place near the cookie sheets. Marinette gave Chat an encouraging smile as she and her mother started rolling balls of dough and then flattening them before placing them in even arrays on the sheets.

Tom in the meantime moved Chat Noir into position next to Marinette and set out a container full of almond slices. "Use the whole slices, just press them gently into the center of each cookie. Then pass the tray to me and I'll brush egg on them."

Chat nodded and began picking out the best almond slices while Tom set the oven to heat and Marinette and her mother finished the first trays of bare cookies. Marinette slid it into place in front of him and Chat carefully placed an almond slice on each cookie and pressed them in.

The almonds were too delicate. They split and broke under his claws no matter how carefully he tried to press.

Tom hummed from over his shoulder and gently pushed the hero out of the way. "Alright, I'll press the almonds, you brush the tops with egg." He demonstrated, coating several cookies with an even layer of egg. "Get as close to the edges as you can, and careful with how you do it or you'll brush the almond slices clean off!"

His light tone suggested that he expected that Chat would do just that on his first try.

Well, well, a challenge.

Chat mimed pulling up his sleeves with a narrow-eyed smirk and picked up the brush.

Tom passed him a tray of coin-shaped cookies, each with an almond slice on top. It took a couple tries to figure out the right technique to brush egg over the cookies without the almond sticking to it, but by his second tray Chat was deftly painting each treat with a thin coating.

At some point Sabine had started singing quietly, Tom joined in a moment later, and even Marinette hummed along. The sound and monotonous action of brushing was almost hypnotic. Minutes later the quartet had several trays sitting ready to be baked and the first few coming out of the oven.

After another quick demonstration, Chat was packing cookies in boxes wrapped in wax paper. He snuck one from the tray and bit into it.

It was soft and warm, the perfect balance of nutty and sweet, and he purred in satisfaction, before realizing that Sabine and Marinette had both caught his cookie theft. He swallowed the cookie and licked away the crumbs with an innocent smile.

Marinette and Sabine shared a mischievous glance then also palmed a cookie each.

"Oi!" Tom scolded, catching them, he lifted has hand as though about to lecture them on bakery professionalism "…you're eating the cookies without me?!" His chastising expression changed to one of hurt indignation. Then he also took one.

Chat laughed.

The Dupain-Chengs were lovely people.

 _(I suppose this could count as a complete short story… but… eh… it started as a prompt idea and grew while I typed it up. I'm only really keeping it among my prompts because there is no context for the beginning and no ending to tie up how this event would affect Chat's or Adrien's relationship with Marinette. PS I haven't seen all of the second season yet, so… I'm not sure if anything changes between characters in that time….)_


	6. jason todd & the batfam

1\. 'Extreme Prejudice'

Jason stormed into the manor still decked out with his weapons and suit. The absolute rage on his face ensured that nobody even acknowledged his presence beyond the usual shock of him appearing anywhere near the Bat-clan of his own free will.

Even Alfred was blind-sided enough that he didn't immediately confront Jason about the no-weapons-or-costumes-upstairs rule.

Despite the strangeness of the situation, or perhaps because of it, everyone followed to peak into the kitchen where Jason was cursing up a storm as he pulled ingredients and supplies out of the cupboards and refrigerator.

He set water to boil for rice.

But as he began chopping vegetables with a little more fervor than strictly necessary, and throwing them into a pan of shimmering oil with a maniacal grin, someone finally spoke up.

"Jay…" Tim started, apparently the bravest of them all.

Jason cut him off with a mad laugh, not even acknowledging his audience. "Take this fucking vegetables!" He crowed and splashed a dash of alcohol into the pan, eyes lighting up as it caught fire. He giggled hysterically before quickly mixing the vegetables with a spatula and extinguishing the flambé. "Fucking plants, fucking Arkham's rotating doors, fucking Batman!"

"What are you doing?" Dick asked once Jason's rant had dissolved into muttering over his pan and over-exuberant spice adding.

Jason smirked, shaking his frying pan in one hand to mix its contents. "I'm making an all-vegetable stir-fry… with extreme prejudice."

They all stared at him in silence.

"I assume Poison Ivy got on your bad side, master Jason?" Alfred eventually deduced, raising one eyebrow.

Jason set the stir-fry back on the stove with a decisive clunk, teeth grinding. "She sent all her freaking carnivorous plants after me! And those damned vines! And thistles! It's gonna take me forever to pull all those fucking thorns from my jacket! He returned to the stove

2\. 'Bat-style Paintball'

(I dedicated colors when I thought of this scene… pay the list no mind)

Red Hood/Jason Todd – red

Robin/Damian – green

Red Robin/Tim Drake – orange

Nightwing/Dick Grayson – light blue

Batgirl/Stephanie Brown – purple

Batman/Bruce Wayne – white

Black Bat/Cassandra Cain – yellow

Batman growled as he caught sight of Jason's red helmet. Half the time he still wasn't sure if his estranged son was around in order to shoot someone or to lend a hand.

Red Hood flipped onto the rooftop, making both Batman and Red Robin tense. "You guys out for a reason? The city is quiet and you are way to tense, you need to enjoy life sometimes." The tilt to his head indicated he had some manner of smirk or grin on under that helmet. Before waiting for a reply, Red Hood pulled a couple guns out of his jacket and set them by his feet.

He pulled out a third gun and checked it over before abruptly aiming and firing.

It was so abrupt that neither Batman nor Red Robin could dodge as a projectile hit each in the chest. It barely even stung through their armor, so they kept their eyes on Red Hood.

"HOOD!" An angry shout arose from a few roofs away, easily recognizable as Damian.

Red Hood cackled, "join the fun or I'll just keep coming back to snipe you." Then he took off, leaving the two guns and two Ziploc bags of what looked like marbles behind.

Robin landed a moment later, an enraged snarl on his face and a red spatter over his heart. "Where did that lowlife go?" He demanded, "I know he was here." He shook his hand violently and, with a start, Red Robin and Batman realized the younger boy was also wielding a gun.

Batman scowled, "why do you have a gun Da- Robin."

Robin tisked, "Hood threw it at my head right after he shot me, obviously." He gestured to the red splat on his uniform. "Naturally I intend to pay him back for it tenfold."

"He left us guns too, right after…" Red Robin glanced at his chest and snorted at the matching red mark now staining his own costume. "Oh… that- he is not getting away with this."

Batman watched in bemusement as Red Robin claimed one of the guns and, after a moment of indecision, picked up the Ziploc bag of orange marbles. Then he and Robin began their own heated discussion on flanking maneuvers and stealth tactics. The two Robins took off after their wayward brother an instant later.

Batman was largely just glad that they were working together for a change. Still, it was with some concern that he stooped to pick up the second weapon Red Hood had left. It was bulky and the bag was full of white paintballs.

A sharp impact on his shoulder made Batman turn.

Nightwing laughed as he swung past on his grapple, his own gun raised in victory for an instant before a purple splotch bloomed on his butt. He yelped and twisted to swing around a corner.

Batgirl gave Batman a cheeky wave as she also swung past in hot pursuit of Nightwing.

Chuckling, Batman hefted his own paintball gun and tested it by shooting the roof. The white paint splatter left behind showed it was already loaded and the bag was just extra ammo.

…

Jim Gordon was enjoying the evening. It was calm, for a city usually full of crime. He was on the roof, but with no reason to turn on the Batsignal the spotlight remained cold and dark.

And then the crunching of gravel behind him told him that somebody had showed up anyway. Jim turned only to gape.

He hadn't talked to the second Robin since before he'd died on account of the murders he'd commited. Yet here Red Hood stood, gun in hand, and head swiveling to watch the skies rather than the police chief he was sharing the roof with.

The commissioner's eyes narrowed, "you seem spooked." He commented, carefully keeping his tone emotionless. The Batclan had never been all that… sane… they ran around dressed in costumes for goodness sakes, but Red Hood was definitely the one Jim didn't want to get on the wrong side of. Reasonable, wasn't what Jim would ever call the kid, and he could be hard to predict.

Red Hood just huffed at his assessment. "I don't get spooked, on edge, maybe." He scanned the rooftops again and ducked when he saw movement.

Jim squinted, just recognizing the silhouette as another of the Bats. "Have another falling out or something?" He asked.

Red Hood chuckled, "or something."

There was a soft 'pop' and Red Hood was diving to the side in a roll that got him back to his feet. He pulled the trigger as soon as he was standing, but wasn't able to dodge the second projectile aimed at him from the shadows.

Jim blinked as a large white stain splattered across Red Hood's helmet, leaving the anti-hero cursing.

Batman stepped out of the shadows with a small smirk, though his costume was strangely discolored in places. A blue stain was dripping slowly down his cape from the shoulder, a green mark on his right thigh, and he had two red splotches on his chest – one just over his heart and the other lower on his abdomen.

"Shit Batman!" Red Hood cursed, wiping at his helmet with a sleeve, "you used Batgirl as a distraction, you bastard!" Grudging respect dulled his angry tone.

Batman chuckled, "yes to the first. It was clever of you to take cover here. I'd never have expected you of all people to hide at the station."

Jim gaped. There went his peaceful evening. When apparently the Bat-clan was making up for the quietness of the criminals by launching a citywide paintball tournament.

"You should know the Robins have set aside their differences to hunt you down." Batman informed Red Hood, still amused.

Red Hood put a hand on his hip and shrugged one shoulder, "well… you should know that Batgirl and Big Bird have come together in their aggravation to get you."

"And Black Bat?" Batman asked.

Jim put a hand to his face, the sheer bafflement was pinning his feet to the roof. He just stayed quiet as the two sometimes-foes talked over partnerships that had occurred within their game.

"Black Bat…" Hood hummed, "she's acting as Oracle's ground unit, since O can't join in. I almost got sniped by her half an hour ago when I got distracted nailing a would-be-mugger in the jewels. Ha! The look on his face!"

Batman stood still, considering, "so… the Robins, the first two, Batwing isn't attending, Batwoman's out of the city, Black Bat and Oracle…"

"Agent A is making snacks for after, so he's also not participating." Red Hood added. "Thank Goodness for that really, he'd beat us all hands-down and none of us would have the heart to stain his suit and get that disappointed raised eyebrow in return."

Batman nodded and his lips twitched, "so that leaves you and I… enemy of my enemy, truce?"

At this point Gordon was so done with the Bats. He was pretty sure they didn't even remember he was there.

Hood hummed, tapping his gun against his helmet, "sure, why not? Lets go teach those bums that they shouldn't mess with us."

They took off together and Jim sighed. At least they probably weren't going to cause much damage. Hopefully.

3\. Head canons about Jason Todd

He takes his reputation as a badass very seriously; as such he purposefully does things to fit that image, like listening to angsty rock songs and not caring about residual bloodstains that he just can't seem to clean from his uniform.

In private… he likes classical music and literature, good food and hygene.

He has always kept an eye on his siblings, even during the time when he didn't consider them family. Because he has a huge soft spot for children and sees his siblings as kids with the most dangerous occupation they could have possibly picked up.

He and Black Bat watch the sky together sometimes.

He and Alfred communicate via email sometimes. Mostly, Jason will send him a message containing new recipes from wherever her travels because they both used to enjoy cooking together.

Even during his darker days as an antihero, Hood has huge support from the street kids wherever he goes and somehow has all the night ladies comfortable enough with him that they badger him about his health and inquire about whether or not he's got a girlfriend yet before trying to set him up on a dating site.

Ps… the dating site is actually up and running without Hood knowing… it's treated as a joke and contains mostly images of him that people have managed to catch. Under 'hobbies' it say: vigilantism. Under 'occupation' it says: being badass. Etc.


End file.
